Page 46 of Second Draft

“Me wanting to take care of you doesn’t make you a charity case.”

“Then what does it make me? Cause I can think of a lot worse words.”

He turns then, fire in his eyes. “It makes youmine.”

Oh.

Silence.

He takes a step towards me, and I know I should back away, but my legs lock, and my heart starts to pound frantically in my chest.

“It makes you mine, Layla,” he repeats, reaching out and placing his palm on my cheek.

I can tell he’s holding back, seeing his control starting to fray. There’s hunger in his eyes. Sexual and intense.

Either I run now, or I give in.

This is the crux.

The point of no return.

He dips his head, blue gaze intense, and unyielding. His mouth is so close to mine. Just a breath away. I can practically taste his kiss.

And God, he smells so good.

“I’ll wait for however long you need. But I’m not going to pretend that it’s not killing me not being able to touch you.” His head dips closer, his thumb stroking my face. “All you have to do is say yes, sweetheart.”

“I…” Am so freaking scared.

“Say yes, Layla.” It’s more of a demand than a request.

My mouth parts. I’m willing myself to say no, but the word doesn’t come out, just a shaky breath.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

I want him.

Bad.

And right now, staring into his intense blue eyes, I can’t remember a single reason why I’ve resisted for so long.

I give a small nod, and it’s enough of an answer for him, because the next thing I know his mouth crashes down on mine, consuming me, tasting me, pushing me over an invisible edge where control and reservations are lost.

His hands are tangled in my hair, his hard body pressed against mine, his mouth and tongue teasing mine, spurring my own wild desire.

A small whimper escapes my lips, and he growls, deepening the kiss.

Fire. It burns through me. My skin is alight with it.

It’s more than just a kiss. He’s marking me, claiming me.

My palms are on his chest, and I feel the raging beat of his heart, proof that he’s just as aroused as I am.

His hold is possessive, his kiss merciless.

“My God, Layla. What you do to me.” His tongue sweeps over my swollen lips.

He pulls back, his breathing ragged, nostrils flaring, and a primal hunger burning in his eyes.

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